Sweet
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Jenny brings Gibbs a treat from her trip to Paris. Tag to Kill Ari Part 2/Trojan Horse. Jibbs fluff!


_A/N: A little bit of fluffy sweet fluff to ease the angst I'm about to slam you all with in the trilogy I started posting today (see: Takes Your Breath, Leaves a Scar, Those Untouched, etc.)_

* * *

The sound of heels on his basement stairs surprised him; he hadn't expected to see the Director here before she relieved him of his temporary position at work.

She was just back from Paris, and her return meant he could go back to ordinary fieldwork. He didn't know what had possessed her to appoint him acting director in her absence, but he suspected it had something to do with teaching him a lesson in respect. He afforded her a brief glance and abandoned the boat, turning to his shelves and taking town the bottle of bourbon and two adequately clean mason jars. She smirked at the reflexive action and prowled around him, her eyes trained on his feet.

He poured the bourbon generously.

"Jen," he growled warily, arching an eyebrow. "You drop somethin'?"

She made a pert, smug noise and lifted her shoulders with practiced nonchalance.

"I simply worried my heels had left blisters on your poor feet," she mocked, crossing her arms primly and tilting her head at him.

He snorted at her, and held out her share of whiskey. She held his gaze for a moment, and then took it with a graceful inclination of her head.

"Your agency's intact, Director."

"You bought it back from the three letter boys?" she returned archly.

"Yeah, told 'em I'd trade them you," he retorted.

She took a steady shot of bourbon.

"Such a comedian," she remarked dryly.

He smirked at her and raised his glass. It was nice to have _Jenny_ standing in his basement, rather than Director Shepard.

"How was Paris?"

She rested her mouth on the jar, leaving a red smear of lipstick.

She shrugged.

"It was," she began—and she sighed. "It was Paris."

"Enjoy those butter sautéed frog legs?"

"They aren't quite the same when you aren't buying," she answered.

He laughed, arching his eyebrows. She bit her lip and finished off her whiskey, reaching for her purse and pulling it off her shoulder. She stepped up close to him and set the purse on the counter, unzipping a pocket. Her eyes were on her purse as she rummaged through it and spoke:

"My last day there I went by that chocolatier shop we found in ninety-nine," she said, pausing with her hands in her bag. "The same old guy was running it. His granddaughter is fifteen now," Jenny looked over at him. "You remember her? Amelie?"

He tilted his head at her silently, swallowing a mouthful of his bourbon. He nodded. He certainly remembered the charming little French girl who had run of her grandfather's store. She had told them exactly what the best sweets in the shop were.

"He remembered me," Jenny said softly.

She pulled something out of her purse and turned to him, her hip pressing against the counter. She held out to him a small, square gold box with a crimson red ribbon tied on it fancily, sealed in the middle with the old-fashioned wax seal of the candy shop. He stared at it, and then raised his eyes to hers.

She shook it a little.

"Take it," she encouraged. "I remembered what your favorite was," she shrugged lightly, "and I thought I'd bring you some."

He set his mason jar down, and took the box, holding it in his palm. He looked at her curiously, his eyes narrowing intently. He wondered what had prompted the gesture. It was nostalgic, and she was so resistant to anything nostalgic since she had become his superior.

It was—_sweet_ of her.

"Why?" he asked simply, holding the box up mildly.

She sighed, resigned, and lifted her eyes to the ceiling before she looked back at him.

"Because," she began honestly. "I missed you, too."

He smirked to hear her admit it, and he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, tightening his grip on the box of chocolates.

And to think, she had told _him_ not to make this difficult.

* * *

_ aw, happy st. valentine's day !_

_-Alexandra  
story #117_


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